Grass AngelSunsplashed buildings, clear blue skiesGrass Angel5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
No traffic, no pedestrians; silence.
The end of June, the end of music.
No birds, no wind, no dreams
except this one.
This clinical, sterile dream,
Inside looking out
As the sun slowly makes its way
across the sky,
The only sound is the ticking clock.
I'm going outside to make a grass angel.
TiredI am tired, heavy-footed, worn with wear I wear my hairTired4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Cold air blows through windows trying to nip the buds
I watch the cigarette smoke whip through the air currents
Saddened by the sun's insistence, shining on a day like
I am rust, I am crushed metal, junkyard darkness, graveyard
I can't remember when I remembered what I'm trying so hard
Fire in oil drums replace the sun and the screaming and singing's
I can't sing anymore, like Clancy can't, and the noise in my head's a
RecessionA man on fire walked calmly out of the building, through glass doors that were maybe there, maybe not. Hit the bricks, pound the pavement, skin a cat or two. I saw what he was thinking, it formed a black cloud above his head.Recession5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
He thought of old photographs and wicker furniture, of how dark it was inside for all of those plants to thrive. He thought of chances taken and opportunities missed. The monologue in his burning head was a constant buzzing fly, a death rattle.
Old TV shows, bad poetry, seasons, songs and metalworks; nothing could shut out the memories or calm the storm inside. Treading water, he wished that he could fly again. Over the horizon he walked, never seeing the starving child scuffling along behind.
A man on fire disappeared from the picture plane today, through glass doors that were maybe there, maybe not. Hit the road, Jack, make tracks, don't step on a crack. Leaving dust and ash, smoke-feathers and birthday candles, he receded.
newshours no longer whittle into daysnews4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
strangled and uncalendared;
forbidden rituals of a new dark Eros
clothesline sheets and bed throes → blunders in a blue face
and sensing your reversals, i’ve grown and grown impossibly old;
god’s bad math:
infinities as remainders.
however they lapse
i spend the better part of them
burning through the flyleaves
for mandalas sealed in hell bank
for ashes of your epilogue
for the end of throats
in songs and news.
no one can regret their past
but of futures . . .
like when planets will re-purpose you
into interstellar fruit bats or thyme pulled from the brink of comets
and you’re wondering why i'll never find you
when datebooks write us in the living.
grassy field with rustgrassy field with rustgrassy field with rust3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
I'd heard about the old car, three miles out of town and all alone. I just had to see it. It was time. School was over for the summer, my friends were at camp, and I was bored. I set out Thursday morning for a hike, following directions that Uncle Will had given me. As the heat was still growing with the climb of the sun, I found the field and wandered around looking, and looking some more, trying not to be distracted by bees buzzing in the flowers, and butterflies and baby mice. Then it was there, just a bit upslope from the bottom of a natural swale, and just below the sky at the top of the bank. A 1959 Cadillac convertible, but not like the old music videos showed.
This one was part buried in grass gone to seed and turned almost white golden with the dry heat. The tires were collapsed cracked pieces and there wasn't a trace of pink paint anywhere. Rust owned it, and it held on so tight that holes were showing in what used
Witches MarketMidnight fell like an old black bird;Witches Market4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I meant to wait for you.
There were tables rich with
amethyst and pearls,
and fragrance by the fistful,
mint and petrichor.
I meant to wait for you.
You were gliding through the haze
with your knotted bag half full-
shadows flicked their tongues
above your knees;
you meant to look for me.
Moments ran like mice;
a silver pot, a cup of tea.
She stank of vinegar and thyme-
the hand was hers, the heart was mine.
Her iron eyes reflected flame;
she took my lungs, she took my name,
though you had meant to look for me,
and I had to meant to wait for you
amid the black salt and the brew.
Ash for the handle,
Birch for the brush,
Willow for the cord that binds the twigs.
gonethat limp,gone5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
left warbling on my desk
where the glass
went sick with longing -
how do we start over?
your note said it all
when you put down the pen
and I could feel the air
forget your name,
coals in the grate
hissing their warning
like a dirge.
i was born too late
and the robins bare mourning
on their breasts
your feet always knew
the way home,
fighting their instincts,
with the purge
of simple lies
crushed under them
like the lost gift
overcast - with pale thoughtI breathed out cloudsovercast - with pale thought4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
hoping they would rise
and write great things in sky
But heat of breathing billions
vaporised all sense and beauty
The sky became a mere grey haze
sparsestark hard beautysparse4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
few things move
few things grow
pipes skirl their wildness in the air
above mountains and water
in the moments of a life without fire
when I can feel clearly
I am born and borne aloft
and truly fly
Lancelot Price 2012 February 06
DrownBlackness at three AMDrown5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Books of hymns
Ribbons, wreathes, smoke
Phone calls from the dead
These things I know
Alice wings itgravity is a wellAlice wings it4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
but long before Alice hits the water-covered bottom
and swims to unknown beauties
she learns to fly while falling
past the things that one would cling to
past the anchors that they are
past deluded people who would grab you, Alice
if you let them
if you wear big clothes
with grippy threads
people with those swollen heads
filled with sterile, crawling thoughts
so heavy they can only live
a life of upside down
and off to the side of penalty flags
keep drifting, Alice
prepare to be so ready
so ready for any thing
that you will never sink
but only fall forever in a glide
Lancelot Price 2011 December 11
EastMy window faces east, I sit at my desk and stareEast4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
at the headlights crawling west past the backlit buildings
Sometimes I watch from the roof, looking west
just to get a different view, but it's all the same
Days come and go, nights come and go, but I stay
There's a place by the ocean I dream about, early morning mist
grey water, grey skies becoming blue, solitude, stillness
I keep a key in my pocket with "love" written on it, and wonder
what it might unlock; maybe trade the city dust for ocean spray
Someday, one day, but not today, it's never today
I close the blinds against the rising of the sun and go back to work
But the key in my pocket is warm against my thigh, it says "fly"
But I wait; fate will find me in the right place at the right time
It always does, somehow, and my brain whispers to my heart
to be patient, good things wait, but farther down the line
ashesthe ashes of loveashes2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
just like always
the busses still run
where we once walked
we never quite went into
except to hot dog stands
Lots of onions and grease
and mustard in our minds
My mind, anyway
I look into the park
and see lakes
Lakes we never swam in
Never soaked in the ghostly emotion
never cooled enough to last
We burned on park edges
where I stand now
Watching a bus go by
With you on it.
Lancelot Price 2013 October 17
I Am EyesI am eyes, that unholy duality.I Am Eyes4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Six deer browse in the dead field;
they have survived late fall
with its plague of men and guns.
I am eyes, turned to the pregnant sky.
Pockets for hands, thick wool for feet,
but eyes take the cold head-on.
There is clamor far away. There is cackle and bray.
There is grumble and wine, there is raw meet.
Handed over like suspicion, taken like greed,
like gold from the cocoa-skinned hide-hidden
lesser gods, there disappears my world.
But I know nothing of this. I am sleepy.
I am eyes.
Diner The diner was old, even then. Shafts of light through the picture-window blinds over the faded red booths. The red-haired waitress with too much rouge, the other grey-haired with glasses. They both wore white uniforms. Dresses. Women didn't wear pants much, back then. The cook was tattooed and also wore white. He looked as much like a sailor as a cook.Diner4 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Tall menus were sandwiched between napkin holders and salt & pepper shakers, on the side of the table by the window. There were no booths on the other side, just a counter with stools.
Coca-Cola, iced tea, coffee. Burgers and fries with a real bottle of ketchup on the table. Ham and eggs anytime, pork chops, ribs. The customers were mostly men; truckers, traveling salesmen, men with no wives to cook for them. Occasionally families, in from shopping the dusty shops of Main Street.
There weren't as many Bird People then, either. They'd been around long enough to hop about their business without dr
Heading HomeBitter-boned, I break and crumble to dustHeading Home3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
My pockets full of keys to places that no longer exist
An oystershell ashtray full of butts and ashes beside me
Testify to dreams of green hedges and white picket fences
A tapping on the door, a rapping on the wall
Ghosts always like this hour just before dawn
A bird screeches and I wake again to the stinging day
And shufflestep towards home from a thousand worlds away
Prufrock processed 01Etherised upon a table in a much-deserted streetPrufrock processed 014 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
being carved and spoken of by Michaelangelo
The cheap hotel we'd been in
the smog-stained yellow window glass
Back then there was a time
Back then was time for time
For being loved by sculptors
who would shape one's self to form
One form only to last forever
and end time
Fleshless form so hard and slippery
sliding quickly off the hotel terrace
cracking in a thousand fissures
sliding down the street
with only yellow smoke to hide in
yellow fog to grease the way
fleeing from Michaelangelo
escaping from his love
Reaching now the seashore
Paddling out beyond the surf line
Hairless arms so stiff and clumsy
Catch a wave and
with broken limbs
Thrown off and falling
Ground down on shore to sand
to beach and bottom of the sea
Soul JuiceSqueeze out the last drops in glorious colorSoul Juice4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
The rind is mashed, rotten, ruined
But the juice is beautiful
When I dream of myself, or others, we're
always in our prime
DinnerTin cup rattle, see how the stars align tonight?Dinner3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Wooden table thunk, look, they're smiling!
Scrape of chair on wooden floor, one just winked at me
Meager meal by candlelight, but so happy, so happy
These are the days of wonder and love, the little days
The bright spots stitched in between work and boredom
Between births and deaths and catastrophes, these are the days
Leave the dishes for the kitchen elves, come to bed, she says
And the stars really do wink and smile
singularityIt was a country with no exit sign.singularity4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Nobody wanted one.
I ask you a question>
What sort of place is that?
Where can I find it?
Girl on the BusThe girl on the busGirl on the Bus5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
smiles like the first day of school
and I can't keep my eyes
off her hands
tucked in her lap
(maybe she is clutching winter).
I like her perfume,
how her hair
strikes up conversations
and that tiptoe wink
she balances on one finger
as I watch the world
on thin wheels.
Maybe she will love me
or let me bring her flowers,
trembling from a stranger's yard -
fragile as the road,
and dangle my heart
between her knees
and eat my poems
like a summer lunch.
Waking DreamGuests came uninvitedWaking Dream4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Some stayed all night
Some just long enough
I was told I acted strangely
I asked if they were really here
Where here was, also in question,
but Peyote Woman did come
Thick blue black braided hair
With black hole eyes
No iris, only placid pupil
Sitting quietly, listening
Full skirt bunched up around her
Colorful blouse and shawl
She did not speak
This did not concern me
In the morning I am taller
I walk silently on cement
Looking down, I see shadows
of the soles of my boots
The shadow soles walk beneath me
I float above the sidewalk
Surprised to be so high
I fumble for a cigarette
One falls slowly to the ground
Gently hits and two cigarettes bounce back up
Only to fall back, hit again to become four
Soon I am surrounded
Thousands of cigarettes dancing under
And around my boots
This does not concern me
There is a war raging far away
Soldier brother pawn dressed to kill
Helmet, uniform, gun and ammo
He is hiding from the enemy
In the bushes along my side
Breakfast At Connie'sSmall birdbones, brittleBreakfast At Connie's5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Large eggs over easy
Tiny dogs yip and nip at the feet
Under the table
A lock of hair in ashes
A crow cawing from the bookcase
Breakfast at Connie's is always
So damned surreal
Last chance for a smoke before the show begins
Light 'em if you got 'em, or just light a candle
Italian Catholic grey-eyed girls
A pumping heart dessert
Hidden in plain sight
Ignored by all as proper etiquette demands
They leave softly
Marching in softshoe-step rhythm
Crunching small bones beneath their feet
Wondering why it's still dark and why the
Show still goes on